Of Moans, Moods, and Mistletoe
by scribbl
Summary: Blaise smirked to himself. There they were, not ten feet in front of him, staring into each other's eyes, oblivious even to his entrance. It was almost too easy. DG Christmas fluff, despite it being the middle of June. Prompt: Just Another Cliché


**Prompt: Just Another Cliché**

**

* * *

**

_Her red hair glinted in the moonlight, as her arms came up to circle his neck. Her soft lips moved against his, as their tongues danced together. Her hands felt their way into his hair, and her small fingers began running through the small hairs at the back of his neck, sending shivers up his spine. She moaned right into his mouth, forcing him to pull her tighter against him._

_But suddenly, she pulled away, and began smacking him upside the head. "Malfoy! Oi! Mal—"_

Draco Malfoy returned to the world of the living with a start, trying to gauge his surroundings. He quickly surmised that he was in the Great Hall, eating dinner, and that it was his best friend, Blaise Zabini, that had been hitting him on the head and calling out his name. Said best friend was also laughing his head off.

"Mate, you really got it bad. Dreaming about her at dinner? Ouch."

Draco merely sneered. "I wasn't _dreaming_ about a _her_. I was thinking about…that essay for McGonagall."

Blaise snorted. "Right. So I'm to assume that the thought of turning yourself into an animal makes you _moan_? Or is it McGonagall herself who features in your dreams? Would you like to turn yourself into a cat, Draco? So you and Professor Dearest can–"

He had _moaned_? Out _loud_? Zabini was right. He really _did_ have it bad…

If he was anyone but a Malfoy, he would have blushed. Being a Malfoy, however, he managed to look down on Zabini with cool disdain.

"What's the matter, mate? _Cat_ got your tongue?"

It was too much. He had to get out of there. How could he explain to his best friend that it was the Weaslette that featured in his dreams, the Weaslette that made his breath quicken, the Weaslette that made his icy heart melt? He couldn't.

With as much dignity as he could (which was quite a bit, considering), Draco rose from the table and exited the Great Hall, ignoring the _cat_ calls and jeers from his "best" friend, and the concerned looks and promises of comfort from Pansy.

If he couldn't eat dinner in the Great Hall, he would eat in the kitchens. He was a growing teenage boy, dammit, and he _refused_ to be thwarted of his food.

**.&.**

Blaise Zabini felt guilty. Well, as guilty as a Zabini _could_ feel, anyway. He knew his best friend had liked the Weasley girl for a while now. Though no one else would be able to tell, Zabini had known the boy since they were in…well not _diapers_, but since they were very young, indeed. Zabini knew when something was bothering his friend. And right now, the Weaslette was his biggest problem.

Zabini knew he had to get them together.

He rose from the Slytherin table as well, and made his way to the kitchens. Where else would a hungry teenage boy go?

Mission: Get-Draco-and-the-Weaslette-Together-in-Order-to-Snap-Draco-Out-of-His-Uncharacteristic-Bout-of-Moodiness had officially begun.

Blaise left the Great Hall in time to see the well-tailored robes of his best friend swish around the corner. He strode confidently in the direction of those robes, then stopped, frowning. His shoe lace had come undone. Damn. He quickly bent down to rectify this sudden tragedy. As he brought the loops together to finish the elegant bow, he heard a noise behind him. The door to the Great Hall had just opened. Upon further inspection, it turned out to be the red-haired seductress herself. Blaise snickered quietly to himself.

This could be interesting…

**.&.**

Ginny Weasley rested her left elbow on the table, her head in her left hand, as her right hand twirled her spoon around her bowl, tracing patterns in her soup. If she squinted, she could almost imagine that the spoon was _them_, her wrapped in his arms, spinning gracefully across the dance floor. She sighed. She knew there was no chance that _he_, a _Malfoy,_ would ever like _her._ She was, after all, a _Weasley_. But a girl could dream, right?

She sighed again, this time attracting the attention of Hermione Granger.

"Ginny?" The older girl asked. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah." _No._ "I'm fine."_ Worst I've felt all day._ "I'm just…tired." That, at least, was the truth. She was _tired._ Tired of schoolwork, tired of the stress, but most of all, she was tired of watching him all the time, wondering what he was thinking, saying, doing. It was all too much.

Unable to help herself, Ginny glanced toward the Slytherin table. She had taken to sitting in this particular seat, just because it provided her a perfect view of _him_.

She was just in time to see him rise gracefully from the table, expressionless mask in place, as usual, leaving behind a smirking Blaise Zabini. She watched, amused, as Draco stalked out of the Great Hall, head held high, as Zabini threw cat calls at him from across the room. A few minutes later, Zabini, too, stood from the table, though with considerably less grace than Draco, Ginny thought. She watched him exit the Great Hall as well.

She sighed again. Now that he was gone, there was no reason to sit here any longer. She might as well go back to the Common Room and begin that Charms essay.

She quickly made her excuses, then made her way out of the Great Hall. It was only when she was halfway to the Gryffindor Tower that she realized how _hungry_ she was.

She quickly turned herself around, much to the bewilderment of the portraits lining the walls. Bloody stomach. Always wanting things of her. Ungrateful little organ. She sighed, for the fourth time. Off to the kitchens, then.

**.&.**

Draco sat slumped at the small, wooden table in the kitchens, his mood not preventing him from hungrily devouring the chicken the house elves had placed before him. He couldn't get her out of his mind. If only there was a way to make her stop haunting his thoughts!

Draco suddenly caught a sudden movement in the corner of his eye. The door to the kitchens had opened, revealing the person in the doorway. It was small girl with bright red hair, dark mocha eyes, full, pink lips, and a red and gold scarf around her neck.

Ginny Weasley.

**.&.**

Ginny opened the door to the kitchens, and was immediately surrounded by the tiny house elves. She placed her order, then wearily made her way to the small, wooden table in the back of the room. It was only as she was walking toward the table that she felt a pair of eyes on her.

She looked up, right into the stormy, gray eyes of Draco himself.

Neither of them noticed the door open and close again.

**.&.**

Blaise smirked to himself. There they were, not ten feet in front of him, staring into each other's eyes, oblivious even to his entrance. He stepped into the shadows, a plan formulating in his mind.

It was almost too easy.

**.&.**

Draco stared dumbly into her deep, dark chocolate eyes, his heart pounding in his ears. He cleared his throat nervously, then stood up. He grabbed the chair next to him, and pulled it out. "Sit." It was all he could do to not stutter, a fact that Blaise noted with amusement.

Draco was surprised when she actually _sat._ What was he supposed to do now? A voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Zabini's told him to "just _talk_ to her, you prat". He decided to heed the wise advice. Blaise was usually right, after all.

**.&.**

Ginny blinked at him. He wanted her to _sit_? _There_? At the same table as him? He must be out of his senses. Not entirely sure _why_ she was doing it, she sat. He sat down next to her, and stared at her for a few more seconds, then began speaking.

"So…the weather's nice today?" She forbore to remind him that it was the middle of bloody December, and that there was a blizzard going on outside.

**.&.**

Blaise listened to their amusingly stupid conversation. It was incredibly awkward, but he could tell that they both enjoyed it immensely, infatuated as they were with each other.

Now if only they would look _up_…

**.&.**

Draco rolled his eyes at something she said, his eyes catching sight of something hovering above their heads. He stared upwards, his brain not processing what his eyes were seeing.

Was that…mistletoe? He could have sworn that it wasn't there just a few seconds ago…

**.&.**

Ginny watched him roll his eyes, then do a double take, staring at something straight above their heads. She stared at him for a second, then glanced up to see what he was looking at so intently.

It was…mistletoe.

Mistletoe.

_Mistletoe._

Oh Merlin. She was under a sprig of mistletoe with _Draco._

She slowly turned her eyes back to his.

**.&.**

His nervous eyes found hers again. What was he supposed to do _now_? Kiss her? The Blaise-voice in his head agreed with this sentiment. Well, Draco figured, he had listened to his friend thus far, why stop now?

His gaze slowly travelled from her eyes to her lips, back to her eyes again. They were staring at him in confusion, and…longing? Expectation? Did she _want_ him to kiss her?

He leaned in slowly, hesitantly, gently capturing her lips in his.

**.&.**

Ginny slowly pulled away, leaning her forehead against his. Their heavy breaths mingled between their faces, and both their eyes were still closed.

But both their naturally inquisitive minds were asking questions.

_How had that mistletoe gotten there?_

**.&.**

Blaise stood in his dark corner, fingering his wand lovingly, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

**Mission accomplished.**


End file.
